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She moved about gracefully, saying a word or two of farewell, and then disappeared to get her wrap, with as little disturbance as possible of the other players. "You naughty man!" and Mrs, Desternay shook her finger at Embury; "if you weren't so good-looking I should put you in my black books!"
He has a perfect alibi hasn't he, Mr. Stone?" "He sure has, Fibsy. And yet he was in the party that discussed the possibilities of killing people by the henbane route." "Yessir but so was Mr. Patterson Mis' Desternay said so." "The Patterson business must be looked into. I'll attend to that to-day I'll also see Mr. Elliott about that matter of personal loans that Mr.
Eunice's eyes were stormy, not glittering desperate rather than defiant she seemed almost like a fierce, powerful tiger appraising a small but very wily ferret. "Is this a bargain?" she cried scathingly. "Are you offering to buy my friendship? I know you, Fifi Desternay! You are a snake in the grass!"
You used to love your little Fifi!" "Well, she doesn't now!" said Miss Ames, tartly, as she came in. "You see, Mrs, Desternay, you have been instrumental in bringing our dear Eunice under a dreadful, and absolutely unfounded suspicion " "Dreadful, but far from unfounded!" declared Mrs, Desternay, her little hands uplifted, and her pretty face showing a scornful smile.
Fifi Desternay was a recent acquaintance of hers, and not a member of the set Eunice looked upon as her own. But the gatherings at the Desternay house were gay and pleasant, a bit Bohemian, yet exclusive too, and Eunice had already spent several enjoyable afternoons there. She had never been in the evening, for Embury wouldn't go, and had refused to let her go without him.
I know how hard it must have been for a proud woman to have that annoyance. Did Mr, Embury object to the lady who was your hostess that evening?" "Yes, he did. Mrs, Desternay is an old school friend of mine, but Mr. Embury never liked her, and he objected more strenuously because she had the bridge games." "And the lady's attitude toward you?" "Fifi? Oh, I don't know.
Though a skilled detective, he was of the plodding sort, and never had brilliant or even original ideas. He had had a notion it would have been better to send Driscoll on this errand he was himself attempting, but a touch of jealousy of the younger and more quick-witted man made him determine to attend to Mrs, Desternay himself. "Well, Mr. Stupid, if you were in the presence of Mrs, Embury and Mr.
Driscoll's surmise that the deed can possibly be traced to one who recently saw the play of 'Hamlet, yet he must remember that thousands of people saw that play, and that therefore it cannot point exclusively toward Mrs, Embury." "That's so," agreed Driscoll. "Who went with you to the play, Mrs, Embury?" "My aunt, Miss Ames; also a friend, Mrs, Desternay. And, I understand you went yourself, Mr.
His next errand took him to the home of Fifi Desternay. By some ingenious method of wheedling, he persuaded the doorman to acquaint the lady with the fact of his presence, and when she came into the room where he awaited her he banked on his nerve to induce her to grant him an interview.
Fifi Desternay raised her hands and let them fall with a pretty little gesture of helplessness. She was a slip of a thing, and it was the morning of the day after the Embury tragedy she was garbed in a scant but becoming negligee, and had received the detective in her morning room, where she sat, tucked into the corner of a great davenport sofa, smoking cigarettes.
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